


Fire And Blood

by ziamronica



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Game of Thrones Fusion, F/F, F/M, King!Niall, Lannister!Louis, M/M, Stark!Liam, Swords, Targaryen!Liam, Tyrell!Harry, various sexy times
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-02
Updated: 2014-01-02
Packaged: 2018-01-07 04:27:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1115492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ziamronica/pseuds/ziamronica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Game of Thrones AU. Veronica Targaryen was never meant to marry a Frey. That's the kind of mistake that's going to cost everyone; from Louis of Lannister, who probably ran out of luck the day he was appointed Hand of the King, to Liam Stark, his unwilling successor if he ever manages to make it past the Twins with his army intact. Sometimes, the biggest battles aren't fought over crowns at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fire And Blood

**Author's Note:**

  * For [roaroftheninth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/roaroftheninth/gifts).



> Disclaimer: The world of Westeros belongs to G.R.R. Martin and I’m merely borrowing it. The members of One Direction, Little Mix and The Wanted are not mine either. Nick Grimshaw would probably be horrified at the idea of being made Hand of the King. None of the people in this story are necessarily meant to depict their real counterparts; they are merely a dream. No profit is being made with this story.
> 
> This is for Samwellington - enjoy, bro. <3

Zayn

 

The wind was slashing through the folds of Zayn’s cloak with a brutal force that matched his mood only too well. For a moment he cursed his ancestors’ inability to breed new dragons. He would have rained fire on the Twins, burning the pair of castles to the ground. His laughter would have mingled with the roar of his dragon as it carried him up and up until the whole damn world vanished in a haze of mist and fire below him...

 

“My lord.“ A young girl at the back entrance to the woman’s quarters curtsied to him. She was a thin little thing with large eyes and dirty cheeks.

 

Zayn cringed at the thought of this girl touching his sister, of this girl helping her with the birth of her third child. The raven had been sent three days ago. Zayn had been with the Starks then, visiting his old friend Liam, which was the only reason why he had made it here so quickly. The journey had only taken him a week; the letter had been incentive enough to rush. The Freys’ maester had not wasted too many words, but he did not expect the lady to survive the birth of her third child. The baby had come early when it should have spent another four months in her womb.

 

The young serving girl’s expression did nothing to soothe Zayn’s nerves as she led him through the dark corridors of the castle. Zayn’s nose wrinkled at the damp and the smell of something rotting just out of sight. A Targaryen should never have lived in such a place, he thought. The blood of old Valyria flowed in Veronica’s veins even if it wasn’t visible in her colouring. Their father had had no sister to marry and so he had been given a Dornish princess for a wife. It was for this reason that Veronica was here at the Twins and not at Storm’s End where she belonged.

 

Gritting his teeth against the old wound that seemed to tear him asunder with sheer force, Zayn walked on. What an arrogant bunch the Targaryens were; his father had decided that the new generation following Zayn and Veronica should go back to the usual blonde and violet of hair and eye and had broken tradition to achieve this goal. Veronica had been married off at fifteen, sold like a cow to the likes of the Freys. The Freys who could not even afford to light their hallways or replace their rushes. Mixing with the damp and the rot, Zayn smelled the sweet scent of blood and flowers. They were close to his sister’s chamber.

 

“Perhaps we ought to wait,“ the little girl said, dragging her wrist across her runny nose. “The maester’s in there with the lady.“

 

They were standing in front of an arched oak door leading to Veronica’s bed chambers. The little girl probably thought he’d never been in there – which was entirely incorrect. He didn’t need her to show him in and had he been at Storm’s End he would have brushed her aside, the maester be damned. But he wasn’t home and this was not his castle to rule so he nodded.

 

“Would you show me to the children’s chambers then?“ he asked and the little girl curtsied again.

 

They walked down another dark hallway to a smaller oak door. The girl pushed down the heavy handle, throwing all of her meagre body weight into the motion, and then stepped aside. Her head was respectfully bowed, and Zayn felt a sudden rush of pity for her. Then the world exploded in wild shrieks and tiny fists were pummeling his shins, an invitation to pick up the twins.

 

As always he felt a mix of intense relief and deep, heartfelt pain at the sight of the little girls. Moti gave him a pout when he failed to pick her up. Kneeling in front of the children, he reached out to pull them against his chest. He could smell their hair, the sweet scent of their skin. They seemed to him the only clean, truly alive beings in this castle of decay and rot.

 

“How have you been?“ he murmured into Heera’s hair, squeezing her a little too hard.

 

The little girl wriggled free and gave him a stern expression, which seemed oddly fitting on her small, chubby face. She would grow up to look just like Veronica, he thought, his heart feeling incredibly heavy.

 

“Mama has been sick,“ Heera said and Moti nodded in agreement. “Papa isn’t here at all. No one’s here. What’s wrong with mama, dumbface?“

 

Zayn was used to the girls using their mother’s favourite nickname for him, but it stung. Not so much that their title for him lacked the proper respect, but talk of their… of Max Frey.

 

“Your mother’s given birth to another child,“ Zayn explained to them, folding his legs under him and pulling the girls onto his lap so he could properly explain the situation to them. “But the baby was very little, you see, and sometimes when babies are very little they die.“

 

Moti’s bottom lip wobbled a little; she’d always been the more sensitive of the two. Heera nodded wisely and picked up Zayn’s hand to play with his fingers; she needed her entire fist to reach around. Biting her lips, she looked up at him. “D’you think mama’s gonna be all right?“

 

“Of course she will be. Your mother has the blood of Old Valyria in her veins, the blood of the dragon. And so do you. You’ll grow up just as strong as your mother and nothing and no one will ever hurt you,“ he said, hoping his voice didn’t waver.

 

At that moment there was another knock on the door and the dirty little girl walked back in. “My lord, the lady is now ready to see you.“

 

Zayn let go of the girls, but not without pressing kisses to their chubby little cheeks. “I’ll see you soon, my darlings.“

 

“See you, dumbface! Come and play, Moti!“

 

But Moti was still standing in the door, looking at him and Zayn’s heart broke a little as he had to turn his back on her.

 

 

Veronica’s bed chamber smelled of blood. Zayn had fought in tournaments often enough to be familiar with wounds, but this was one wound he could not deal with, an enemy he had never learned to fight. The bruises blooming across Veronica’s cheek bones were telling enough. She had not suffered a miscarriage, after all, not in Zayn’s eyes anyway.

 

Crossing the room with swift strides, he sat on the edge of the bed, reaching out to cup her face in his hand. The room was just as dark as the rest of this cursed castle, but even in the dim light from the bedside candle he could see her flinch under his touch.

 

“Tell me not to kill him,“ Zayn whispered, leaning over her. “Tell me not to smash his head on the rocks of Storm’s End and laugh when he begs for mercy.“

 

“Don’t be melodramatic,“ Veronica replied dryly. “It’s… it was just a child. Nothing worth getting killed over.“

 

The hand instinctively reaching for her now empty belly betrayed her words and Zayn folded his hand over hers. “We’ll have more.“

 

Veronica shook her head. “Do you know why he did it? He wants to marry Moti off to some rich merchant from Pentos who came through here. He wants to go North and find direwolves. Their pelts are in style now, it seems. And on the way back he wants to take her with him. She’s only five years old, Zayn. I can’t… I couldn’t let him do that.“

 

Zayn shook his head and his grip on Veronica’s fingers tightened. “I’ll never let him sell my daughter like cattle,“ he hissed. “Not to some whore monger from over the sea.“

 

He recalled Moti’s large dark eyes, the way her tiny body had felt against his chest. How anyone could even dream of marrying of such a young girl was beyond him, but he had a feeling that it involved money. The Freys had never been a rich house and they tended to father too many children to feed them all. Too many ugly children no one wanted to marry. Max was a fool to think of marrying Moti off to a foreigner when he could have easily made a good match for her in the Seven Kingdoms once she was a little older. But thinking had never been his strength anyway.

 

“I think he knows,“ Veronica whispered back. “Zayn, I need to leave. The next time it might not just be a child in my belly. It might be one outside.“

 

Her eyes were just as wide and dark as Moti’s and Zayn knew he would never not do whatever she asked of him. His twin, his sister, his wife in all but name.

 

“I’ll take you away from here,“ he vowed. “To King’s Landing. King Niall can help dissolve your marriage and then…“

 

Their kiss tasted of despair and finality.

 

**Harry**

“You got a Targaryen raven,“ Louis said, stomping his foot. “You got one of those fancy white ones and I wanna know what Zayn wants.“

 

“Lord Zayn,“ Harry corrected him mildly and stretched his arms over his head.

 

Harry didn’t like being woken from his midday nap, but Louis had decided to scare off Harry’s squire and just keep bothering him until he woke up. The sunlight filtering through the high windows painted intricate patterns on Louis’ cheeks and he was so pretty and excited that Harry forgot to be cross with him. Not that Harry was ever seriously angry at anyone, that just wasn’t in his nature.

 

“Can you keep a secret?“ he asked, tilting his head to his side and Louis nodded.

 

“I’m the Hand of the King; it’s kind of my job to keep secrets although I have amassed so many good ones… I think I’ll write a book once I’m no longer Hand. Should be pretty entertaining. So what’s going on with the Targaryens?“

 

Harry frowned and bit his lip. “You know that Veronica Targaryen was married to Max Frey, right? When he tried to sell their daughter to a merchant from Pentos she protested and he beat her until she had a miscarriage. It’s not the first time that has happened apparently. Zayn wants me to help so King Niall will do away with the marriage. I told Zayn to bring Veronica and the children here. Louis, the little girl is only five years old! What was I supposed to do?“

 

A shadow crossed Louis’ features and he shook his head. “You did well. If our noblemen start murdering children in the womb we definitely have a problem in this land. Besides, Max is an arse anyway. I don’t like him.“ Harry held out his hand for Louis to take, but the Hand of the King flopped down beside him on the bed and cuddled against his chest. “So Tyrell helps out Targaryen? What is the world coming to?“

 

“I have nothing against the Targaryens,“ Harry replied with a shrug. “They’re a bit odd, but I met Zayn when we were pages together and he’s very nice. You dirty Lannister,“ he added with a smirk and Louis screeched in outrage.

 

“Dirty Lannister? I’ll give you a-“

 

Harry’s lips against his own silenced him and as their kisses grew more heated Louis forgot about the slur all together.

 

**Zayn**

The flight from the Twins with a sick woman and two young children was harder than Zayn had anticipated. The little girls had learned how to stay upright on their ponies, but they weren’t used to hard riding and Zayn had to take a lot of detours to avoid running into Veronica’s husband. Between all the breaks and detours it took them almost two months to get to King’s Landing. The girls were excited when they rode on towards the Red Keep, winding through the roads and alleys of the ever sprawling city, but Zayn never let them stop, never let them look at anything for too long. He could tell that Veronica was at the end of her considerable strength. Her fingers on the reins of her horse were white-knuckled and he had a feeling that it was all she could do to even steer the beast in the right direction.

 

“I sent a bird to Harry Tyrell,“ he murmured in a reasonably quiet alley. “He’ll help us.“

 

“Isn’t he bedding the Hand?“ Veronica asked with the hint of a smirk. “That might indeed help.“

 

Zayn shrugged. “I wouldn’t want a Lannister in my bed. Might as well do it with a snake.“

 

“That’s because you only want Targaryens.“

 

He halted his horse and grabbed her reins. “Always and forever,“ he murmured and bent over her hand to press a searing kiss to her knuckles.

 

“That’s a long time. Now… get on with it. I want to get out of the open.“

 

They finished the rest of the journey to the Red Keep as quickly as they could, but two more hours passed before they found Harry Tyrell and Veronica could be bathed and put to bed. The girls fell in love with the Hand on sight and he promised to look after them while Zayn and Harry talked.

 

Harry had a set of large chambers overlooking an inner courtyard on one side and a small vegetable garden on the other. It was this cool garden they retreated to. It was safe from sight and prying ears since it could only be reached from either Harry’s quarters or a gate at the far end.

 

“So what happened exactly?“ Harry asked once the servant had left them with wine and cheese. “I don’t mean to be curious, but we’ll have to think of what to tell the king.“

 

Zayn shrugged. “I told you; he beat my sister because she objected to having her daughter sold like cattle and she lost a child. It’s not the first time he’s beaten her and not… not the first time she’s lost a child either. There was a little boy, last spring, but he was stillborn.“

 

Harry reached for Zayn’s hand, sensing something that was hidden just below the surface of what Zayn was saying. “You’re awfully sad about your sister’s children.“

 

Everyone knew that children died all the time and Zayn’s grief over his lost nephew would have seemed excessive if Harry hadn’t known him so well. Back when they were pages, Zayn had always carried a picture of his sister with him.

 

“I know what you’re asking. Yes.“

 

Harry nodded firmly. “Then if we were to break the match with Frey, do you think your father would let you marry her?“

 

“She has two children with another man and two miscarriages behind her. I don’t think anyone else would want her. He’d have to let me… it’s what Targaryens do anyway. She was supposed to be mine. She was promised to me and I to her since before we were born. He had no right to tear us asunder. He had no right to marry her to a man who beats her and rapes her.“

 

Harry flinched, his large green eyes clouding over at the thought of Veronica Targaryen suffering such a cruel fate. The Targaryens had always been odd about marrying their relatives. It seemed so strange to him that they would have made an exception in Zayn’s case when clearly he wanted to be married to his sister, when he loved her. Reaching for his friend’s hand, he squeezed his fingers.

 

“I’m the king’s brother in law and the Hand is my… good friend. I promise we’ll do whatever we can to help you. For now you should rest. You look tired.“

 

Zayn smiled ruefully. “I’ve never travelled with children before. The ponies are slow and we had to… you know, we couldn’t use the high roads.“

 

The Tyrells preferred leisurely travel with lots of breaks at friends’ and relatives’ houses so Harry could only imagine the hardships of a journey made alone and without a support system. “I’ll have Grand Maester Paul attend to your sister. He’ll make sure she sleeps well.“

 

Zayn leaned over Harry’s hand, his shoulders shaking with the sobs of relief. He’d had to keep it together for his family for so long, now it was his time to be guarded for a while.

 

“Thank you,“ he whispered and Harry stroked the back of his head. And so they sat for a very long time.

 

 

 

**Veronica**

 

Grand Maester Paul cleaned his hands with a lemon-scented cloth after he had examined Veronica. Her head was turned towards the open window, taking in the sight of the flower garden just outside. The light and the bright colours were satisfying a hunger in her she hadn’t been aware of. She would probably be able to get up and walk among the trees and flowers with her daughters soon. The maester would give her some herbs to make her stronger and everything would be all right.

 

“My dear lady,“ the maester said after a while. “Has your maester at the Twins given you a potion shortly before you miscarried? A sleeping draught perhaps?“

 

Frowning, Veronica shook her head. “I saw very little of him. Why do you ask?“

 

“Would you please open your mouth? I just want to be sure.“

 

He gently pushed his finger against the inner side of her bottom lip then nodded gravely. Taking a hand mirror from the bed side table he showed her the blue flesh of her lip.

 

“It’s a berry meant to induce labour,“ Grand Maester Paul explained. “It’s given to women who have been carrying their children for too long. Only maesters know how to make it. It must have been given to you in your food or drink.“

 

Veronica looked back at him, quite calmly. She had been aware of her husband’s dislike for both herself and her brother, but she had never been able to figure out what he had against her exactly. She had certainly not been demure and sweet, but he wouldn’t have married a Targaryen with the blood of the dragon if he hadn’t wanted a challenge. He must know.

 

“So my husband murdered my child.“

 

“I do not know that, but perhaps… the beating served to make it look like an accident?“ the maester suggested in a low whisper. “Miscarriages occur most often, but poisoning does not.“

 

“And a miscarriage can only be blamed on me, but he would be the one punished for poisoning me,“ Veronica finished his thought. “Grand Maester, we need to keep this between ourselves for now. Do not tell anyone, please.“

 

The Grand Maester looked troubled for a moment, torn between duty and his natural inclination to help and comfort. At last he nodded.

 

“My lady, there’s just… just one thing. I have examined you to the best of my ability. You have carried four children in almost as many years and lost two. One to a horrible poisoning. It has weakened you greatly and…“

 

“I cannot have any more. I know that. I felt it when the last one slid down. It tore something apart. I could feel it and I knew then.“

 

The maester bowed to her, out of respect for this seemingly fragile woman. She was and frail in body, but not in spirit. Hidden beneath the fragility was a core of steel. She was harder than many warriors for wounds of the body that weren’t nearly half as painful as this wound of the spirit.

 

“I shall leave you alone now, my lady. You can call me any time you might have need of me.“

 

Grand Maester Paul left and Veronica looked back out of the window at the garden and the girls running among the flower beds and suddenly she felt very tired. She would have to think about the implications of what her husband had done, but not now. For now she needed to rest. Closing her eyes, she let sleep claim her.

 

 

**Niall**

 

“I don’t wanna have a private audience. The public ones are bad enough, now they wanna see me in private!“ King Niall crossed his arms over his chest and glared at his wife’s reflection in the mirror.

 

Queen Gemma wrapped her arms around him from behind and hooked her chin over his chest; her light brown hair spilling over his shoulder, mingling with his own darker locks. “It’s for my brother’s sake.“

 

“Stupid Tyrells. Stupid Tyrells with their big green eyes,“ Niall groused, but patted her hand.

 

It was an open secret that Niall was incapable of saying no to his wife and so he would meet with the Targaryen heir and discuss something related to his sister and her recent miscarriage. Niall knew very little about babies other than how to make them and the entire topic was an embarrassing, blush-inducing affair. Pulling his heavy cloak more snugly around his shoulders, he walked towards the door.

 

“Thank you, love,“ Gemma called after him and Niall only grumbled in response.

 

Stupid big-eyed Tyrells. Stupid Targaryens. Niall just wanted to enjoy his ale in peace and possibly play the harp for a bit. It was his free afternoon. Louis always made sure he had a couple of free afternoons each month and now it would be spent with a Targaryen in his living chambers. Pursing his lips, he crossed the hallway between his chambers and threw open the doors.

 

The Targaryen heir bowed briefly. To his surprise Niall found that the lady was with him. That was rather unfortunate because Niall had a weakness for pretty ladies. He couldn’t say no to her. Cursing his wife and her dimple-cheeked brother, he kissed the lady’s hand. Her hand was so small and frail in his. Max Frey had no idea how to handle a woman like that. Niall would have loved the challenge of her if he hadn’t been so devoted to his queen.

 

“My lady, how may I be of service today?“ he said, bowing gallantly.

 

He sat on the couch opposite of the chair the small Targaryen lady had sunk back into and looked at her. Her brother stood next to her, more like a guard than a lord, his hand resting on the lady’s shoulder.

 

“My husband has poisoned me, causing me to lose my child,“ Veronica Targaryen replied.

 

Her brother hadn’t known that, Niall could tell. He saw his knuckles go bone-white against the rich embroidery of the chair and his eyebrows knotted together.

 

“Grand Maester Paul told me. My husband beat me to hide what he had done and make it look like I had lost the child due to natural causes. I wish to dissolve our marriage.“

 

Normally Niall would have been all for it; he did not like violence against women even if not all of his knights and lords seemed to agree with him there. The only problem was that Niall couldn’t do it.

 

“I’m sorry,“ he said sincerely. “But I can’t. Your husband is my cousin thrice removed on the mother’s side. There was, unfortunately, a wedding between Baratheon and Frey in the past and I am honour-bound to protect my cousin’s marriage. I would not want to openly oppose him, but if you wanted to, say, have an extended stay here I could allow that.“

 

The lady gracefully inclined her head while her brother looked murderous. “Thank you, your grace.“

 

The entire audience had taken less time than Niall had anticipated, but when they had gone he didn’t feel any better. It had left a sour taste in his mouth, like the morning after a feast. He wanted to help her, wanted to help her very much, but he couldn’t. He was the most powerful man in the Seven Kingdoms and yet so completely helpless where etiquette and family bonds were concerned.

 

 

**Louis**

“Did you know that Nialler was related to the Freys? Eeew. I’d rather hack off my own hands than admit that I even know one of them more than casually.“ Louis was lying on his stomach on Harry’s bed, wrinkling his nose in distaste. “I’ll have to subtly influence him. Just… get a couple of pints in him and tell him to screw the Freys.“

 

Harry punched his pillow into a more pleasant shape and sighed as he flopped down on it. “I’m glad it’s you influencing him and not someone who might have, you know, sinister intentions.“

 

Louis cackled at that and rolled over so he could rest his head on Harry’s chest. This entire thing between them was so unlikely: Harry Tyrell who always wanted to believe in the best in everyone he met and Louis Lannister who knew that goodness was only a tale for small children.

 

“He’s gullible, but he’s not an idiot. If someone really wanted something bad for the realm he wouldn’t listen. But, you know, I don’t like this whole business with the little Targaryens. They’re children and that arse… no, I don’t even want to imagine what that Pentos whore monger would’ve done to her.“

 

A shudder rippled through Louis’ body and Harry wrapped his arms around his waist, pulling him closer. “It didn’t happen. Don’t worry about it. If he comes here we’ll just close the gates. We can do that. I’m the queen’s brother and you’re the Hand. We can do whatever we want.“

 

Harry said that in such a sweet, innocent voice that Louis didn’t want to tell him how stupid it was to speak of it openly. Twirling a finger around one of Harry’s curls, he smiled.

 

“What will we do if he brings an army? They can raise three thousand men.“

 

“They wouldn’t act without the Tullys’ permission surely.“ When Harry looked down at him his green eyes were very wide like he had not given any thought to the idea of a battle at all. That was what Louis loved about him; that sweet innocence and trust in the inherent goodness of every soul he’d ever met. Leaning forward, he brushed his lips against Harry’s forehead.

 

“No, of course he won’t. Don’t worry, sweetheart.“

 

Despite Louis’ reassurances there was a tension in the air for the remainder of the night, thick enough to cut with a knife and there was a desperation in their touches that had never been there previously.

 

They had met two years prior when Gemma Tyrell had become King Niall’s wife. The heir to Highgarden had accompanied his sister and, as was the way with the liberal Tyrells, had decided to stay for a while. When he had caught the Hand’s interest that little while had turned into months and then years. They knew they were living on borrowed time because Harry was the heir and could not marry another man; he would need to father children to continue the line. But they could wish and that wish kept them together, bound by desire.

 

 

 

 

**Zayn**

 

Zayn didn’t speak a word, not until they were back in the safety of Veronica’s chambers, but once there he whipped around, quick as a snake, and grabbed her by the shoulders.

 

“He poisoned you?! Why did you not tell me? I would have killed him right then and there!“

 

Veronica didn’t struggle against him and that was why he let his arms sink at last. Frowning, she reached up to caress his cheek. “I didn’t know and even if I had known, what difference would it have made? You couldn’t kill him. It doesn’t matter. I’m safe here for the time being. He won’t march on King’s Landing if he knows what’s good for him.“

 

“If he knew what’s good for him he would never have laid a finger on you,“ Zayn growled, unwilling to let the subject go.

 

His sister liked pretending that she was unbothered by her husband’s violence and cruelty, but he knew her. He knew that it was mostly pride holding her together. She was only twenty years old and had already lost more than most lost in a life time. Still, his anger dissipated under her gentle hand and he felt his blood slow. It was still hammering against his rib cage, against his wrists, but the roar of the dragon was turning into a purr.

 

“It’s not good enough for me. I want you to be my wife. I don’t want to have to beg or lie. These girls are my… they’re my children.“ He hated how broken his voice sounded, but a moment later Veronica’s arms were around his neck and he felt like he could breathe freely again. When her lips finally met his, warm and rose petal-soft, he crushed her against his chest and all thoughts of Max Frey were forgotten. His wife. Not in name, but in every other regard.

 

“He knows,“ Veronica whispered at last. “Why else would he have done it? He wants a son. The Freys aren’t fond of girl heirs. He would never have risked losing a son. I don’t know why, but he knows.“

 

Zayn laughed and he flinched at the bitterness of the sound. “Look at them, Veronica. Look at them. They could never be his. They are mine and everyone can see it. That’s why he hates them and that’s why he wants to hurt you. And I won’t let him. I’ll fight him to the death if I have to.“

 

Veronica led him to the bed, making him sit down and face her. “You might have to,“ she said seriously. “He is well within his right to demand my return and that of the children. He is well within his right to raise his banners and claim me.“

 

Zayn pulled her into his arms again, squeezing her until he thought they were both going to break. “I’d rather die fighting him than watch him take you back. He’ll never ever have you back.“

 

They spoke no more of it that night or in the days that followed. It seemed like they both wanted and needed at least a brief respite from everything that had happened, all the ways their lives had changed. The following weeks were perhaps the happiest the twins had ever enjoyed. Zayn could not show his love for his sister outside the walls of her chambers, but he was free to do whatever he wished when they were alone, was free to treat her with the respect and tenderness she was owed. And he was free to play with his children, to tell them all the stories his own parents had used to make him fall asleep at night.

 

It was one night, a month after their arrival in King’s Landing, that Veronica took him to her bed at night. He saw her wild grin in the faint light from the bedside lamp.

 

“I want you,“ she said, just like that.

 

With Veronica it was always like this; wild and unpredictable, and it was what Zayn loved about her. One of the things he loved about her. Bringing his hands up to cup her breasts through her dress, he lightly traced the outline of one of her nipples above the fabric.

 

“Are you wet for me?“ he asked.

 

“My, could you be more conceited if you tried? Do you think I just need to think of your cock and I’ll be good to go?“ Rolling her eyes at him, she pinched the soft flesh on the inner side of his arm.

 

Grabbing her wrists, he pinned them above her head as he rolled on top of her. “You can’t help being an insufferable bitch, can you?“

 

“No, but that’s why you love me.“

 

“Sadly enough you’re right.“

 

Dipping his head, Zayn suckled one of her nipples between his teeth, feeling her flesh harden under his tongue. Veronica arched upwards, her breasts straining against her bodice. Zayn’s fingers seemed far bigger and more clumsy than he remembered them being a moment ago. The laces just wouldn’t come undone and in the end he ripped them apart, hearing the satisfying snap when Veronica’s breasts spilled free. Her nipples had peaked into hard little pebbles, begging to be kissed and sucked until he had burned the memory of his touch under her skin.

 

“You’re beautiful,“ he murmured, tongueing around one of the hard little nubs.

 

“I know.“

 

But the sharp upward snap of her hips was telling enough. Grinning, Zayn undid her skirt and slipped it over her hips. Veronica’s knees fell open and he reached down, feeling the slickness on her thighs. Her back arched with another impatient groan.

 

“Get on with it, why don’t you?“

 

“Perhaps I like having you like this, love. All wet for me, wanting me and too proud to beg for it.“

 

Her flat stomach dipped and he kissed it, kissed down all the way between her legs. He felt her muscles tighten when he placed his palms on her thighs, spreading her open for him. Nuzzling her cunt, his started licking her with long, firm strokes of his tongue. It had been so long since he’d tasted the heady mixture of musk and honey, since he had explored the tender folds and the swollen nub of her clit. Sucking it between his lips, he swirled his tongue around it.

 

“Zayn.“

 

Veronica’s hips snapped up, meeting his mouth and he felt it, felt her orgasm building like it was his own. His cock was impossibly hard in his trousers and he impatiently pressed the heel of his hand against it for some relief.

 

He flicked her clit with his tongue, small, hard movements that made her moan and lift her hips so beautifully. She was so wet for him when he slipped a finger into her to give her a hint of what was about to come. When her walls tightened around him, he came too and it wasn’t the only time that night.

 

 

It ended too soon, their happiness, but perhaps it had to be that way; perhaps you could only truly appreciate happiness if you knew the darkest pits of despair.

 

One morning, about a month after their arrival in King’s Landing, the Hand of the King turned up at the door step.

 

“I got a message from that son of a bitch. Stark. Said he allowed Frey to march on King’s Landing to claim back Lady Veronica.“

 

Zayn sighed deeply. He had not expected anything else from Liam. He was a good friend, but he had a duty to his own banner men and since the king had not decreed otherwise Veronica was still Max’s wife.

 

“We’re the king’s guests and we will not leave. What does he possibly hope to achieve by that?“

 

“I’m… I’m not actually sure what the king will do,“ Louis admitted. “Nialler’s been odd lately. He can’t really turn you out, he won’t do that, but still. He doesn’t talk to me the way he used to.“

 

The bond between King Niall and his Hand was legendary. The boys had been squires together because Niall’s father had felt it better to let the lad experience the real life all of his subjects lived before allowing him the comforts of court. The friendship between the boys had been quick and easy and lasted a life time. It seemed odd to Zayn that Niall should no longer listen to his Hand.

 

“We’ll have to take you to Storm’s End then,“ Zayn said. “Surely father will not stand for this.“

 

He hadn’t yet written his father to tell him that Veronica was in King’s Landing now and he doubted anyone else had told him. The Targaryens weren’t known for their conversation skills with anyone outside their own house.

 

He sensed that something was amiss when Veronica placed a hand on his arm. It was a simple, gentle touch and then she shook her head.

 

“I’m not going there while father is still alive. He’d never give me sanctuary anyway.“

 

And as much as Zayn hated the thought, hated his family for it, he knew she was right.

 

 

**Louis**

 

Louis wasn’t sure how he felt about the Targaryens’ relationship. He had been aware that their relationship went beyond that he shared with his own sisters. As he was walking through the sun-flooded hallways of the Red Keep it was easy to recall the splendour of Casterly Rock he had grown up in.

 

Jay Lannister’s husband had died when his oldest son, Louis, had just been a baby. Jay had borne her lovers many more children, but the lady had never deemed to remarry. Through connections with Niall’s father she had had all of her girls legitimized and they no did not bear the mark of bastards. Louis had become a man among swishing skirts and dolls. Perhaps that was the reason why he fought his battles in a more subtle manner than most men. He didn’t draw his sword (although he was a passable swordsman) at the least provocation, but let his opponents taste his tongue instead.

 

Still, lately even this tongue of his wasn’t doing its job anymore; Nialler had withdrawn from him and sometimes during council meetings he glared at him. Louis wasn’t invited for ale anymore either which was probably a good thing. Lannisters couldn’t hold their drinks the way Baratheons could. Louis was no stranger to nights of debauchery, but either the Tyrell in his bedroom had made him soft (although not during actual bedroom activities) or Niall’s stamina for drinking was growing greater. Probably the latter.

 

He passed by the members of the King’s Guard and entered one of the smaller audience chambers. That in and of itself was odd because they usually just discussed their business in Niall’s living chambers or even in inns and taverns they sometimes sneaked out to. This was an oddly formal meeting.

 

“Louis.“ Niall didn’t rise from his chair, forcing Louis to bow.

 

Louis had never bowed to Niall before, not when they were alone anyway. You didn’t spend most of your youth squiring together and chasing randy stallions in the mud and then started bowing to someone you’d seen doing all these things.

 

He bowed and his head felt like lead.

 

“My King.“

 

“Dammit, Louis. Dammit. That fucking shower of cunts has done it. All those vipers and arseholes have finally done it.“ Niall’s face was covered in hectic red spots and his fingers were curled at his hip, looking for the sword that wasn’t there.

 

“Have I done something? If it’s about your brother in law, I can explain-“

 

“It is not about Harry for fuck’s sake. It’s about Gemma. There are rumours that you’re banging her behind my back.“

 

Louis opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, the back of his throat feeling tight and dry. “I would never ever do that, Niall. I’m not… I don’t even like bedding ladies, much less your lady. I wouldn’t do that. You know that.“

 

Niall scowled at him, his brows drawn so far down his eyes were almost hidden under them.

 

“I know you don’t fuck women. It’s not for my lack of trying, though! I’ve given you the prettiest girls in the Seven Kingdoms and you didn’t want them. No, I know you wouldn’t want that and I know Gemma wouldn’t want you anyway. But the court believes so.“

 

Deeming it safe enough now, Louis stepped forward and sat on the steps leading up to the throne. “What do you wanna do now? Do you need me to step down? D’you want to dramatically sack me or something? It’s fine with me if you want to do that. Just let me know so I can pack my stuff and swear dramatically at people. A Lannister always pays his debts and stuff like that.“

 

“It’s the Targaryen girl,“ Niall whispered. “They know I won’t turn her away because she’s my guest. So they’re gonna force me to act. They know you’d tell me to just keep the gates shut and send out a couple of knights to deal with them.“

 

“So they’re trying to get rid of your Hand so you’ll be forced to replace me with someone who’s more open to you doing the technically right but morally wrong thing,“ Louis concluded.

 

But who would replace him? Certainly not Harry. Harry wouldn’t open the gates to the Frey hosts any more than Louis would have. There weren’t that many young men to fill the position of the Hand. Only…

 

“Please tell me they’re not going to replace me with Liam bloody Stark.“

 

Niall snorted. “They know he’s the only man I’d consider for the position and he’ll probably keep nagging until I just do what’s right and proper and give Frey back the girl. If you wanna do your packing and threatening, you’d better start now because there’s no way I can keep you around any longer, Louis. Everyone thinks you fucked my bloody wife. I’d look like an idiot if I kept you on.“

 

Niall reached out and Louis felt his friend’s fingers in his hair, stroking him in  silent apology. Louis understood. He wasn’t even mad about any of it, he just wished that things had gone differently.

 

 

**Liam**

Liam Stark had been Lord of Winterfell for the past two years, ever since his father had died. It wasn’t something he particularly enjoyed doing, but it came with certain perks. The maester bringing him letters instead of making him come to his chambers to get them for example.

 

Sitting at the table in the great hall, he opened the first letter from King’s Landing. It was from Zayn. Liam bit his lip, muttering a silent apology to his friend before breaking the seal and unrolling the scrowl, still a little damp from its long journey. He had a pretty good idea what Zayn would want from him. It was his sister who had run away from Max Frey, after all, and while Liam didn’t know all of the details he knew that a wife’s place was at her husband’s side. Veronica Targaryen shouldn’t have just run from him. Liam had had no choice but to allow Frey to raise his banners. He just felt sad that it should be against his friend’s family.

 

His hands suddenly went cold and his lips drew back into a tiny ’o’ when he saw the contents of the letter:

 

_Dear Liam_

_The last time we met you asked me if I wanted to become a Black Brother because I still had not taken a wife. I was not at liberty to disclose the truth then, but I must speak now because the woman I have called wife all my life is in great danger._

_Us Targaryens have always married our sisters, but my father had no sister and so he married a Dornish princess, dark of hair and eye. He loved her greatly, but as he grew older the Targaryen madness possessed him and he decided that I had to marry a fair girl so the blood of Old Valyria would once more be visible in the Targaryen line. He married my sister, the woman I have loved like a wife all my life, to Max Frey. Max abused her cruelly, causing her to lose two children. The last time he poisoned her. Grand Maester Paul told us about it. I did not know that when I took her and our children away from him, but I am sure you understand why it was so important to take her to safety now._

_For the sake of our friendship I ask you to rescind your permission for him to raise his banners. He will have a fair trial, but neither the old gods nor the new will be with a man who poisoned his wife and killed an innocent child in the womb, I am sure._

_Please forgive me._

_Z._

Liam’s hands were shaking by the time he had finished the letter for the first time. He read it over a couple more times, but the words remained the same. Max Frey had tried to kill both Veronica Targaryen and her unborn child. From what he gathered, this child had likely not been Max’s, but who would be able to prove that? And what did it matter? Killing a child, even a bastard (or was it? Liam wasn’t sure?) was not how Liam wanted any of his subjects to act. And he had given Max permission to raise his banners. Even now he was marching on King’s Landing. The king would not get directly involved, he was sure, but the Targaryens would be forced to act. And so was he.

 

It was his subject who had almost killed a lady and her child. It was up to him to make amends for his mistake in trusting Max.

 

There was a second letter from the capital he would need to read before calling his banners, though. Unrolling the scroll, he found that he had been named Hand of the King.

 

What madness had possessed King Niall to dismiss Louis? What was going on in this world that had seemed perfectly safe and orderly until this morning? Liam didn’t know. He didn’t know what to feel or how to make sense of any of the things he’d read, but he knew he must still raise his banners and do the honourable thing; protect the lady. He’d get to King’s Landing that way and he would become Hand just as soon as he had ended the madness of a war between Frey and Targaryen.

 

 

**Zayn**

“I’d tell you not to go, but I know that you have to. So I’ll spare you the tears and gentle lady-like protests.“

 

Zayn had asked Veronica not to come down to the stables to see him and his guard off, but he should have known better than to try and keep her away. Once she had got it into her head to do something she rarely strayed from her path. Her face and wrists were awfully thin, though, and Zayn could tell it took all of her will power to keep herself upright. She was much too thin for a woman who had recently been pregnant, he thought. After the birth of the twins she had looked healthy like a blooming flower. Now she was withered, almost like the ice flowers in the terrible tales of winter the Starks were so fond of telling.

 

“Love, go back,“ he whispered, placing his hands on her shoulders and for a moment he was sure it was all that kept her from falling.

 

“In a moment. I just wanted to see you go off to war for me. I never thought that would ever happen to me. I thought we’d be like the Targaryens of old; you know, only ever talking to each other and laughing at the rest of the realm for being such idiots and getting into wars and all that.“

 

“It will be that way when all of this is over,“ Zayn murmured against her ear, not saying what they were both thinking - _it should have been that way_.

 

“Does Father know you want to raise the banners yet?“ Veronica asked.

 

“No, but we still have time before the Freys arrive, I hope. It’s gonna take a while to make an army cross the realm and maybe… there might be some fighting for us.“

 

It seemed unlikely that anyone would willingly pick up their arms for the Targaryens who had always sneered at the rest of Westeros, but there was the faint possibility that someone might feel pity for Veronica’s plight.

 

“We’ll see each other again, love. I promise.“ Zayn kissed her forehead because they were in the open and he didn’t want anyone to see them together like this. Targaryen customs were often misunderstood by the other nobles.

 

“Just don’t be too long,“ Veronica whispered and pulled him in for a kiss that was all teeth and tongue and desperation.

 

When Zayn rode he felt like a part of his soul was being ripped from his body and bounced right back into Veronica’s hand.

 

 

They rode their horses hard every day and it took barely two weeks to reach Dragon Stone, the ancient seat of the Targaryens. Zayn hadn’t thought he’d see it again so soon. After his stay at Winterfell (which now seemed to have been a life time ago), he had planned on an extended stay at the Twins with his sister. He had a feeling that he would never set foot into the cursed castle of the Twins again, no matter how this ended. Should he win this war he would personally burn it down, dragons or not.

 

The familiar sight of the peninsula made something swell in Zayn’s breast that he hadn’t felt in a long time; the longing for this place. He’d been born there and he had always believed he would die in Storm’s End. It now seemed like his death might occur elsewhere, far away from the castle he had always known and loved. It seemed so strange to him that the life he had always believed to be certain and safe was now crumbling apart under his fingers like a castle of sand and there was nothing he could do to hold it.

 

Shaking his head to free his mind of such fanciful thoughts, he pressed his heels against his horse’s sides and the poor beast broke into a last gallop for the castle.

 

An hour later Zayn was freshly bathed and sitting down for a hasty meal when his father burst through the doors. “What have you done, you fool?“

 

His father looked old, much older than his fifty name days, and Zayn felt a shiver tingling at the root of his spine. Was this his fate too? Would he become old and insane long before his time?

 

“You are fighting a war against your brother in law!“ the old man accused, his voice trembling. “For your sister!“

 

“My wife,“ Zayn corrected him gently. “And I need to fight this war because you left me no choice, father. You married her to the first man who would have her and that man turned out to be violent against her. She was supposed to be my wife. She was born for me, not for that man who beat a child out of her and poisoned her so she’d lose another. She was dying when I found her. A Targaryen of Storm’s End was dying at the hands of a Frey, Father. Any man with a drop of honour in his blood would have done the same and I dare you to try and hold me back. The banners will be raised, even over your dead body if I have to.“

 

Something in the old man’s expression shifted and his violet eyes widened in their nest of wrinkles. “He beat my daughter? He poisoned her? And where was… why did no one tell me?“

 

Zayn could see tears trickling over his cheeks, winding through the ruined craters of his face, and Zayn felt nothing but pity for the man who had once held him on his shoulders, telling him that the world was his for the taking.

 

“I just want my sister to be safe. Father, I want the children to be safe. Moti and Heera. Do you remember? We had an artist bring you pictures of them.“

 

The old man smiled a little. “Beautiful children, but not blonde. Maybe yours will be. When are we going to eat dinner?“

 

Zayn felt a rush of pity for the old man. He was not going to ride to war and avenge his daughter. Zayn would do that. He would ride and he would make sure that Max Frey would never again beat Veronica. He would not have the hands to do it.

 

He sent for their maester then and asked him to write. It was time for his under lords to bow their knee to the Targaryens once more and lend him their swords in battle.

 

 

**Louis**

“He dismissed you like you were nothing but an insolent servant!“

 

Jay Lannister was looking out of one of the huge windows of her private quarters, her eyes fixed on the sea below her, but Louis could tell she was angry. She had been pleased with his appointment to Hand, saying that fostering him with the king hadn’t been such a waste of time after all. There wasn’t much joy left now that her oldest son had come back home in disgrace.

 

“Did you fuck the Tyrell slut then? Or what did you do to lose a position such as this?“ When she whipped around to look at him a lesser man might have averted his eyes, but Louis had grown up with Jay and her intimidation techniques; he wasn’t scared of his mother any more than he’d been scared of Niall.

 

“I assure you it had nothing to do with that, nothing at all. The thing is that Niall doesn’t wish to deny the Targaryen girl protection, but at the same time he cannot deny his cousin the right to his own wife. I told him to act, but he didn’t want to and there are more than enough people, allies of the Freys, who would be more than happy to force his hand. I would have never done that so they needed him to have a Hand who would.“

 

Understanding dawned in Jay’s eyes and her mouth set into a grim line. Louis was very glad she was on his side, no matter how tired he felt right now. He’d ridden from dawn till dusk for the last week, crossing the Gold Road as quickly as he could to bring his mother the news himself – and to learn what he was supposed to do about it.

 

“So it’s because you wouldn’t let him hand over the girl to that dog. I have no love for the Targaryens myself, but I know the Freys. They should be the ones marrying their own sisters because no good will come of them anyway. So… you lost your position because of them?“

 

The calculating look his mother gave him did not bode well. Louis had grown up with her, had seen her scheme and ally and break all bonds of friendship the next day. He had a feeling that whatever she was planning now wouldn’t be pleasant, possibly because it involved his own friends and acquaintances for the very first time. The thought of something happening to Harry made the breath hitch in his throat. Harry… they’d said their goodbyes a week before, promising to meet again and knowing that it seemed highly unlikely at the moment.

 

Louis wouldn’t be able to return to King’s Landing until the whole thing with the cheating scanadal had blown over and Harry, as Gemma’s brother, could not possibly come to Casterly Rock for a visit.

 

“I did, Mother, but I hardly think it matters. There’s a war coming. The Targaryens will fight the Freys at the gates of King’s Landing and-“

 

“The Freys will lose,“ Jay Lannister said, a dark smile curling her lips. “We will call the banners and crush them between our armies. Time for the lion to lie with the dragon.“

 

 

**Liam**

 

Liam Stark was not very interested in war, had never been. He liked the sword training and the horsemanship because there was nothing like the fresh northern winds whipping colour into his cheeks, but he was not interested in actually killing or maiming a man. He had never done it before either. His jousting had never ended in actual death, which he had always been grateful for.

 

Now, as his gaze wandered along the thousands of campfires gleaming in the dark like gem stones against velvet  he felt very young and very stupid all of a sudden. How could he possibly have hoped to catch Max Frey’s army in time? Max didn’t have half of Liam’s numbers and he could move far more swiftly. Besides, Max had killed before. That seemed to give him some sort of power that Liam did not yet have and he shuddered at the thought of meeting him in battle, of having to kill him.

 

Shaking his head to rid himself of the thought, he walked back into his tent where his generals were waiting for him.

 

“We had a raven from the Targaryens. They have set sail and will meet us near Harrenhal shortly,“ General Josh said.

 

They had only just crossed the Neck and the journey to Harrenhal would easily take another month. Liam wasn’t at all sure that he could be there shortly. Still, he would have to try. He was suddenly glad that he was fighting on Zayn’s side. Zayn would know what to do and Zayn was his friend. The thought of having to go against him had been weighing Liam down all the time before the arrival of the letter, the letter informing him about Veronica Targaryen’s treatment at the hands of his own bannerman.

 

“We need to be faster tomorrow then and the day after. We cannot be late or they’ll go without us,“ Liam said. “Tell your men to ride like the Others were behind them.“

 

The generals bowed and hurried out of the tent to carry out his orders. Liam wasn’t sure how he was supposed to feel about that, about having so many men at his command who would do his bidding if only he asked. It was a disconcerting thought in many ways.  He held the power over their lives and deaths in his hands, could lift them up or crush them as he saw fit. Shuddering, he lay down on his pallet and willed himself to go to sleep. It took hours before exhaustion finally pulled his eyes closed.

 

 

**Veronica**

Veronica Targaryen had quickly become the most popular lady in the Red Keep. Most courtiers saw her as some sort of anomaly, a lady who had openly defied her husband and gotten away with it. She was also going to provide them with some entertainment since both her husband and brother had decided to raise their swords for her.

 

Veronica didn’t really care about any of the gossip because she had a much more important task to attend to and that was hiding her pregnancy.  She had known even before Zayn had left, known that she was carrying his child. Telling him had seemed needlessly cruel so she had borne the weight of the realisation alone – and she had to make sure it stayed that way. If the court were to notice that not only had she left her husband but also bedded another man she would undoubtedly lose some, if not most, of her support.

 

She couldn’t risk that because of the girls.

 

Veronica wasn’t concerned about herself so much; she was strong and could look after herself, no matter how delicate her body and health, but the girls… her beautiful little girls couldn’t be expected to survive very long on their own.

 

Veronica was glad for the long, flowing skirts that were currently favoured at court. She hardly showed even without them, but if there was even a shadow of a doubt about her morality, certain fractions would jump at the idea like sharks on a drowning sailor.

 

Gathering her skirts, she took the hand of the King’s Guard who had summoned her from her chambers and climbed down the steep flight of stairs leading to the king’s chambers. The knights hadn’t told her why the king wanted to see her and she hadn’t asked; when the king summoned you, you didn’t ask any questions. Still, Veronica was feeling a sense of dread weighing on her chest like a nightmare. It had been her constant companion since Zayn’s departure for Dragon Stone, but it was growing worse with every passing day. At night she would wake from dreams she couldn’t remember and her clothes would cling to her skin with sweat. During the days she liked keeping her daughters about her even when the little girls protested that they were old enough to go out without their mother.

She hadn’t liked leaving them even now in broad daylight and she hoped that the king would get to the point quickly enough.

 

“We’re here, my lady.“ The knight bowed as he opened the door for her.

 

Veronica stepped inside, her shoulders pushed back and her face expressionless. She was not scared of kings or men. She was the blood of the dragon and the world had better cower at her slim ankles.

 

The king was sitting by the hearth, his dark head bent low. When he looked up at her a faint smile was playing around his lips. He was handsome, Veronica thought. Handsome and so, so young.

 

“My lady.“ The king came over to her and kissed her hand without waiting for her to curtsy. His lips were warm and dry and gentle; this was a man who had some experience with women, Veronica thought, one who didn’t play games unless they were pleasurable.

 

“Please sit down, Lady Targaryen.“ He gestured at a dainty little chair, richly embroidered with the colours of House Baratheon and a crowned stag.

 

Veronica gratefully sunk down onto the cushion and looked back at the king who had returned to his seat in front of the hearth. Despite the fact that she had stayed small she could feel the effects of carrying a child; she got tired more easily and sometimes dizziness would force her back into bed after breakfast.

 

“You wished to speak to me, your grace?“ she asked, folding her hands in her lap.

 

It was better not to show your claws unless you absolutely had to. Men were easily manipulated if you pretended to be fragile.

 

The king smiled softly and the light from the fire softened his face until he seemed barely old enough to be a man grown.

 

“Your brother’s troops have set sail. My spies are telling me that he means to join my future Hand’s army at Harrenhal and pursue your lord husband to King’s Landing. They will fight at the gates of my city and I cannot join this battle although it will greatly affect my people. I don’t know what to do, Lady Targaryen. I do not wish to return you to a husband who has abused you. But I cannot tear asunder my kingdom for one woman. I cannot do that.“

 

He let his head hang in defeat and Veronica thought she detected a hint of shame in the way his long lashes brushed against his cheeks. The protector of the realm seemed like no more than a school boy who had been caught in the middle of a prank. She crossed the distance between them and knelt at his feet. Her skirt fanned out behind her, the red and black of House Targaryen dark against the rushes. Taking his hands, she warmed them with both of hers. As always her Targaryen blood ran hotter than anyone else’s.

 

“No, you cannot do that and I won’t let anyone else suffer for me. You needn’t ask. I know what you wish me to do, your grace, and I will. The only thing I ask of you is that my children be allowed to stay in King’s Landing and be taken to Dragon Stone once the passage is safe again. I do not ever want Lord Frey to see them again. That’s my price for doing as you ask.“

 

Veronica wasn’t doing this for other people, though. The role of the self-sacrificing lady was only a means to an end, but she had a feeling that the king would appreciate the charade. It would ease his guilt because she had offered it and not made him force her.

 

King Niall’s fingers tightened around hers, almost hard enough to crush the delicate bones of her small fingers. He finally looked up at her, his eyes glittering with emotion.

 

“You remind me of my wife, Lady Targaryen. You are an extraordinary woman and I wish I was not bound by honour and family. I’d ride into battle for you. I would.“

 

Veronica shook her head. “My brother won’t give up, though. He never will.“

 

But even if he didn’t, this might make Max withdraw, she might buy some time for Zayn and maybe things would be a little different in a while. Maybe he wouldn’t have to fight, after all. The pregnancy was making it more difficult for her to think logically. All her instincts were focused on the child growing in her belly, its protection, the protection of her children. This was for the twins as much as it was for Zayn.

 

Finally she turned back to the king and he gave her a tired smile.

 

“I know. But you won’t be at King’s Landing.“

 

Veronica bowed her head. “I will leave at once then. I only require two men of your King’s Guard to safely take me to my husband’s camp. We’ll be faster if we go without too many servants.“

 

King Niall only squeezed her fingers in reply and Veronica Targaryen shuddered, even in the heat from the fire.

 

 

**Moti**

Moti didn’t like Mama’s expression when she came into the twins’ room. The little girl knew that her mother was often sad, but she was sadder now than she had ever been before. When she knelt in front of the girls her hair brushed against Moti’s cheek and she inhaled the sweet scent deeply. It suddenly seemed important to have this memory of Mama’s hair, to make sure she didn’t forget it. Wrapping her chubby little fingers around Mama’s hair, she hid under the dark waves. Perhaps if she just kept hanging on then nothing bad would happen.

 

“Sweetheart?“ Moti felt her mother’s gentle fingers in her own hair and Heera’s hand on hers, trying to pry her fingers open, but she refused to let go. If she did she would never see Mama again, something bad would happen, she was sure of it.

 

“Don’t go away, Mama, please.“ Moti felt tears pricking at her eyes and she felt ashamed, but unable to stop them from falling.

 

“How did you know?“ Mama asked and pulled her a little closer. “Did someone tell you I was going away?“

 

“No. I just… you are, right?“

 

She felt the sigh deep in Mama’s chest and her chin scraping the top of her head as Mama nodded. “Yes, sweetie, I’m going away for a little while.“

 

“To Father?“ Heera asked.

 

Suddenly Moti and Heera were both pushed away, both held at arm’s length, and Mama shook her head. “No. I’m going back to that man you used to call Father, but I’m going to trust you with a secret now, my girls. You can keep a secret, right?“

 

Moti exchanged a glance with her sister and the girls nodded in unison. They were good at keeping secrets. They had never told anyone that it had been Uncle Zayn who had gotten them that little kitten Father had been so angry about.

 

“I am married to that man,“ Mama explained. “And he thinks you’re his children, but that’s not true. There’s only one man I have ever loved and you are his children. Do you understand that?“

 

“Uncle Zayn,“ Heera said suddenly. “He’s our father, isn’t he?“

 

Moti looked at her sister with admiration. She was good at figuring out things that would happen in the future, but Heera was best at understanding the past.

 

“That’s right,“ Mama whispered and crushed both of them against her once more. “I love you so much, my children, so much. That’s why I need to go. I don’t think I can explain. You’ll understand when you have children of your own.“

 

Moti tried to hold on, but Mama left too quickly for her to cling or to follow. One minute she had been resting against Mama’s chest, warm and safe, and the next the only thing that was left of her was her scent lingering on the air.

 

 

**Zayn**

When Zayn’s troops landed at Maidenpool one of the young squires drowned. The boy had been trying to calm a frightened horse and the beast had savagely kicked his head, sending him into the water. Red had bloomed around him like an evil flower. One of his friends had jumped after him, but his hands had gripped only water. The boy had sunk too quickly and eventually Zayn commanded the other boy to come back up. There was no need for him to die for a drowning man.

 

“He’s my brother,“ the boy whispered, water running from his hair and down his face.

 

Zayn saw the redness in his eyes, but ignored it. He had no comfort left to give anyone, especially not a young squire who would probably not live beyond his first battle. He placed a hand on the back of the boy’s neck, squeezing and that was all the warmth he could spare for him.

 

There was talk about bad omens, but the commanders snapped at the men until they fell silent. No matter how thin the blood of the dragon ran in some of them, they would not tolerate cowardice among their men. Privately Zayn thought that they weren’t all wrong. Perhaps this campaign was ill-fated and they would all die. Still, looking over the grey sea, Zayn didn’t find it in his heart to care about any of it. Even if all of them, every single man in his army, died he wouldn’t stop. He owed Veronica that much.

 

It took a couple of hours for every single man, beast and all the supplies to be unloaded and Zayn was growing restless. He wanted to ride, wanted to join Liam and ride for King’s Landing where Veronica was waiting. He’d fight Max, kill him and finally make Veronica his wife. He would set things right. He would make up for all the wrong their father had done them both. Blowing his breath into his fingers to warm them against the frigid sea winds, he turned back to face the land and walked into the makeshift camp his men were making. Tent poles were driven into the ground and banners raised. Zayn looked at the three-headed dragon of House Targaryen, blood-red against black, and shuddered.

 

At that moment one of the maesters came running, his cloak billowing behind him in the wind. He was bearing a scroll.

 

“There was a raven from King’s Landing, yesterday evening!“ the old man exclaimed, his face red from running, his breath coming in white puffs. “It’s urgent.“

 

Zayn recognised Veronica’s elegant handwriting and his fingers were cold and clumsy when he unrolled the letter.

 

_My love_

_I know that you will not understand my reasons for doing what I did. You are a man and while I do not doubt that you love our daughters dearly you have not carried them in your body, have not protected them behind walls of skin and flesh. You have never been the last barrier between them and those who would hurt them. These girls are the most important people in the world to me and that is why I cannot be selfish. If it was up to me and me alone, I would wait for you to fight Max in battle and kill him. I know that you would. I know that we could be married then, but I cannot wait. The king will not protect me much longer because he is afraid for his city. He gave me the choice to leave of my own accord or to face the consequences for my refusal. Of course he did not say it, but I knew that he would have had me killed sooner or later. It would be more honourable than to let all his people die in the war because of me._

_Tonight I am riding for Max’s camp. I know you will not give up on me, but be careful, dumbface; this won’t be easy._

_-V_

Rain fell down on the ink, smearing it, but it didn’t matter because the words had burned themselves into Zayn’s heart already.

 

“Where are the Freys?“ he bellowed at one of his generals.

 

“At Duskendale, my lord. If we hurry and do not rest unless we absolutely have to we could be there in three days’ time.“

 

Zayn nodded grimly. They didn’t have the time to wait for Liam Stark who was probably no further than the Neck. If they wanted to save Veronica they would have to go at once and never look back.

 

“Tell the men to saddle their horses at once. We will ride to war now.“

 

They had four thousand men against the Freys’ three thousand. The Freys were well-rested and had the advantage of knowing the lay of the land. Without the Stark men they would probably not make it. He was suddenly glad that the young squire had drowned; there were worse ways to die.

 

 

**Jesy**

Lady Jesy yawned as she woke from her long, dreamless sleep. Outside the winds were howling, but she was resting comfortably under her thick blankets and furs. Besides, there was the warm body of her rockwife pressed against hers. Perrie’s blonde hair appeared over the edge of one of the furs and she looked adorably confused in the state between sleep and waking.

 

“Morning already?“ she mumbled. “Still so sleepy.“

 

“Then go back to sleep. We’re Greyjoys; we do not sow so there’s little point for us to get up in the morning.“

 

Jesy stretched her arms over her head, watching as Perrie used her breasts as a pillow for her blonde head. Running a hand down her wife’s body, she slipped a hand between her legs. Perrie mewled softly at the touch, spreading her legs wider. Jesy felt the hint of wetness against her fingertips and lazily circled Perrie’s clit with a finger. A sharp intake of breath told her that her wife wasn’t opposed to being woken this way.

 

“Wet like a true Greyjoy,“ Jesy murmured against Perrie’s head and she felt the shudder running through Perrie’s body.

 

Perrie spread her legs invitingly, rolling her hips upward at the same time. Jesy shifted so the angle would be more convenient for fingering her. She loved doing this to her wife best of all things; Perrie was incredibly responsive, rewarded her with mewls and moans and groans that were like the sweetest ballad to Jesy’s ears.

 

“Let me feel the kraken then,“ Perrie breathed and Jesy was just about to when there was a knock on the door.

 

“What is it?“ she yelled, pulling her hand back. Couldn’t she fuck her wife in peace? What was the world coming to when you couldn’t even have morning sex?

 

“Urgent news from King’s Landing, my lady,“ the maester called.

 

“It seems like you’ll have to wait a little for the kraken, sweetheart,“ Jesy murmured into Perrie’s hair.

 

She wiped her hand on the blanket and got up to throw a cloak over her shoulders before she let the maester in. Her feet felt cold on the bare stone floor, but she kept them firmly on the ground. No weakness for a Greyjoy, never.

 

The old maester’s fingers were shaking as he looked at her and bowed. “The Starks are going to war with the Targaryens. They’ve united against the Freys.“

 

Jesy sat at the chair next to the fire, nodding. Her wild dark hair tumbled about her face and she impatiently pushed it back. “So the North is unguarded,“ she said. “Why did they go to war again?“

 

“Lord Max Frey’s wife, Veronica Targaryen, ran away to King’s Landing, taking their children with her. She and her brother claim that he has abused and poisoned her. The king was unable to act because Lord Frey is a distant relative and besides there are rumours surrounding the Targaryen siblings. Louis Lannister was forced to resign. They wanted to force the king’s hand and he apparently has decided on a course of action… the Targaryen girl decided to go back to her husband. Stark gave permission to the Freys to ride to war, but now he wants to revoke his permission and force Frey back. Probably on account of the new information regarding Lady Targaryen.“

 

Jesy listened and her expression darkened when she heard of Veronica Targaryen’s fate. Jesy was no friend of the Targaryens any more than she was a friend of any of the other noble families, but the Greyjoys were now ruled by a woman and she understood the importance of it. If even one noble lady could be abused by her husband at will then that would reflect back on any other noblewoman. It was about time that the men of the realm learned the proper respect for women.

 

“As I said, the North is unprotected and Stark deserves a lesson. They all do. They’re all fucking idiots,“ she growled. “Call my banners.“

 

The maester nodded and hastily walked out of the room, seemingly glad to be allowed to leave. Jesy savored his fear. It had been too long since there had been any warrior maidens in the realm and the men had all forgotten that it didn’t matter who held the blade; it would kill you from a woman’s hand just as well as from a man’s. But she would show them. She would show them all and when she was done, well, they would be cowering at her ankles like beaten dogs.

 

When Jesy returned to the bed Perrie was fully awake, her blue eyes very wide.

 

“Are you going away?“ she asked. “It might be dangerous.“

 

“I’m a Greyjoy, not some fragile little Tyrell girl. I’ll be all right.“

 

Pinning Perrie’s wrists over her head with one hand, she reached between her legs with the other and Perrie gasped, all fears forgotten for the time being. “Now let me give you a memory of what it means to be a Greyjoy…“

 

 

**Niall**

“I feel horrible,“ Niall said to Gemma.

 

The royal couple were resting in their shared bed, Gemma’s arms wrapped around her lord husband from behind. His heart was fluttering against the gentle touch of her hand and he was suddenly scared, scared of her judgment. He hadn’t meant to do this to Veronica Targaryen, but in the end he hadn’t had another choice.

 

Without Louis there was no buffer between him and the nobles whose discontent was growing louder with every passing day. It wasn’t even that he couldn’t understand them. He was worried about King’s Landing and their people as well. The land wasn’t rich enough to stand a prolonged siege and Niall had a feeling that it was going to be a long war. This was a deeply personal matter. Fights over lands or a perceived slight might be more easily forgotten, but a man’s wife had been taken from him and there were rumours, of course. There’d always been rumours about the Targaryens and their odd ways, but the nobles had now seen Veronica Targaryen’s children and even Niall could tell that there was not a drop of Frey blood in their veins.

 

“You did what you had to do,“ Gemma replied softly. “You were right; you cannot tear the Seven Kingdoms asunder for one woman and her lover.“

 

“D’you think it’s true then? Is she really fucking her brother?“ Niall’s nose wrinkled a little at the thought of that. But then again… the Targaryens didn’t seem like ordinary siblings to him. They looked the same, but they didn’t act like Harry and Gemma did around each other.

 

“I know that my brother loves me, but he would never start a war for me,“ Gemma said. “If that answers your question. Yes, I believe that there’s more going on between the two of them than they’re admitting to. It’s not because they’re brother and sister; the Targaryens don’t care. The only thing that’s stopping them is that Lady Veronica is still married to Max Frey.“

 

“Grand Maester Paul told me she had been poisoned, but the swelling vanished quickly under his good care and there was nothing for us to show the High Septon or anyone else as proof. I’d have defended her in a heartbeat if only I could have.“

 

Pressing back against Gemma, Niall angrily knuckled his eyes. He felt so powerless about the entire affair and he was supposed to be king. The thing was, a king was only as strong as his support from his nobles and Niall needed to make sure that everyone was pleased with him. It wasn’t a very hard thing to do in times of peace, but this… he didn’t know how to proceed, how to make this all better. He felt like a dam trying to hold a storm flood and he was so close to breaking down and letting it all happen.

 

“I don’t know what to do,“ he admitted finally in the dark of the room. “I wish Louis was still here, but… you know how it is.“

 

Gemma nodded and he felt the movement against his shoulder, warm and comforting like a summer afternoon. “I wish he was still here too. Harry has the saddest eyes now that he’s gone.“

 

“Sometimes I wish I had a standing army,“ Niall said angrily. “Not the gold cloaks. I want… I wish I could just crush Frey’s army and let everyone be happy. But I can’t and it’s making me feel so…“

 

He turned around and muffled his anger with kisses that grew ever more heated. It was only with Gemma that he felt truly safe these days. It was only in her arms that he knew the taste of peace.

 

 

**Veronica**

The King’s Guard only took Veronica as far as the command tent. Once they had safely delivered her to her husband their duty was fulfilled and they did not stay behind to protect her. Judging from the expression in Max’s eyes, Veronica was sure that they could have done nothing to help her anyway. He was smiling as he walked towards her, taking in her appearance. Her black riding habit was spattered with mud and soaked in the sweat of two days’ hard riding, but she met his eyes with the regality of a queen.

 

“So you’ve returned home at last, my lady wife.“

 

Veronica smiled at him, standing tall. If he wanted to beat her again she would have no choice but to let him. She didn’t have to give him the satisfaction of trembling in fear, though.

 

“I have come back,“ she said. “For the good of the realm and to protect those children you haven’t killed yet. So, let’s ride back to the Twins. This war is over, isn’t it? You got what you wanted.“

 

She hadn’t told Zayn in her letter and she hadn’t betrayed it to the king, but she was scared for her brother. She didn’t want him to fight unless he absolutely had to and if she could do something to prevent the whole thing from happening then she would.

 

“Worried for your brother, my pretty?“ Max grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her  flush against his body; she could feel the hard muscles of his chest against her breasts and shuddered. “Well, I have no intention of stopping now that I’ve taken all my men here.“

 

That was when Veronica realised what Max was really planning, had probably meant to do all along. “You want to kill Zayn,“ she said softly. “You want to kill him and then? What do you want to do then?“

 

“I’ll take back those little bastard-whores he’s fucked into you and sell them to whoever bids the highest,“ Max replied pleasantly, his arms tightening around Veronica’s waist, crushing her to him. “And then we’ll see about those sons you owe me, my lady. I think we should get started on those right away.“

 

Veronica did not think of anything when he started his fruitless attempt of getting a son. She lay there and let him do what he wanted. She would never give him the satisfaction of tears, would never acknowledge his presence at all.

 

It was only when he was done that she allowed herself a brief moment to think of Zayn and his tenderness. She remembered the evening down by the sea after they had learned of her betrothal to Max.

 

The setting sun had painted their faces with shades of red. Zayn had looked flawless in the soft light, his eyes as wide and dark as hers, his mouth soft and sensitive. He’d teased her about her growing breasts, had pleasured her with his mouth and hands before finally taking her.

 

“Say you’re mine,“ he’d whispered, his breath hot against her throat and she’d driven her nails into his back, clinging to him.

 

“Yours, yours. Always, Zayn.“

 

He would come for her. He would come for her or he would die and perhaps there was not a difference between the two and perhaps none of it mattered anymore.

 

 

**Harry**

Harry was walking through the gardens with the little Targaryen girls (Harry was no fool and he could tell that their father was not Max Frey) and he felt at least a little peace for the time being. The children were clinging to his hands, pulling him where they would and he let them. They had all lost someone they loved, not to death, but to circumstances, and Harry felt like it was a good idea for them to stick together.

 

“Don’t like it here,“ little Moti mumbled at last, coming to an abrupt stop. “I want mama and Uncle Zayn to come here again. Why did they have to leave anyway?“

 

“Mama had to go and speak to papa, she told you so,“ Heera replied with a roll of her eyes. “I told you so. Why don’t you ever listen?“

 

Moti sniffled a little and Harry knelt down so he could look the little girl in the eye. “Your mama and uncle will come back for you soon,“ he promised because he didn’t really want to tell the child the truth, that no one knew if they were ever going to come back. “And then we’ll all eat lemon cakes in the garden. Do you want to learn how to make lemon cakes?“

 

The Tyrell cooks had seen nothing unusual about Harry’s request to learn the basic arts of baking and cooking and he had become a willing and skilled student. When he’d turned up at the kitchens of the Red Keep for the first time the cook had laughed, thinking that he was trying to make some sort of joke, but when he had turned out to be serious she had tested him. Clearly she didn’t want some young lordling messing up her carefully planned kitchen routine. When Harry turned out to be skilled and polite she allowed him his own space and pots.

 

Moti rubbed a wrist over her eyes and looked up at him. “All right,“ she mumbled. “But only if I can eat them.“

 

“Of course. You can eat all the cakes, right?“ He looked at Heera who nodded her agreement.

 

Heera was the harder of the two, Harry thought. The little girl seemed to understand a lot more about what was happening to the twins than she let on and certainly more than Moti. It seemed cruel that such a young girl should be responsible for both herself and her sister, but they had been born into a world of blood and misery. The sooner they learned that the better, right? Only, Harry didn’t want them to learn that lesson. He wanted them to remain in the Red Keep and its world of beauty and grace forever.

 

He picked up Moti and settled her on his hip then took Heera’s hand and led her to the kitchens.

 

They were all up to the elbows in flour when Grand Maester Paul arrived at the door steps.

 

“Lord Harry, do you have a moment?“

 

Harry hadn’t interacted much with the old man since he had come here. They saw each other during audiences and social gatherings sometimes, but they had rarely spoken. Harry liked him, though. He seemed to be the sort of man who meant what he said and did as he said.

 

“My ladies, I will have to leave you to gallantly fight the batter on your own.“ He made the girls a bow before walking out of the kitchen with Grand Maester Paul.

 

“What is it, Grand Maester?“ he asked as they were walking through the kitchen garden.

 

Grand Maester Paul took a tomato and delicately nibbled it before turning to Harry. “I heard rumours. I wasn’t sure whom to trust with them and so I came to you. It seems like there is suspicious activity at Lannisport. Troops gathering. I am afraid for the realm, very afraid, if this turns out to be true and the Lannisters mean to join the battle. I don’t know which side they might end up on.“

 

Harry nodded gently. “So you ask me to find out.“

 

“For the king’s sake. For your sister’s sake,“ Grand Maester Paul whispered. “I would not ask for your assistance if I did not think the realm was in dire need of it. I know that you too have suffered from all of this even if it might not appear that way at first. I’m sorry for your loss, my lord. I really am.“

 

Harry inclined his head. Every night he lay awake, looking at the moonlit gardens outside his bedroom. Louis had often stood out there, waiting for him to come down and they had made love with the moon and the stars as witnesses. Louis’ absence was like a hole in his heart that no one else could fill and yet he smiled and comforted and listened to everyone else. It was too hard to resist the possibility to see Lous again, feel him in his arms once more. Perhaps that was why he agreed to Grand Maester Paul’s plan so readily.

 

“I’ll ride for Casterly Rock. Louis would not let them harm me and I’ll find out more that way than by staying here and writing letters.“

 

Harry knew that he was playing with fire; if Jay Lannister was not on their side and decided that taking a hostage might be a good idea he would have no one there to help him. Not even Louis could defy his mother when it came to such matters.

 

“I’ll ride at once. It would be good if you could make up some sort of excuse for the court. Oh and do you happen to know how to instruct two little girls in the art of baking lemon cakes?“

 

 

**Louis**

Louis had never been particularly keen on warfare. He wasn’t bad at swordplay although he vastly preferred using his tongue to parry blows. It was so much easier to fight with words than with swords and the preparations outside Casterly Rock only reinforced this. Men were arriving in dozens and sometimes hundreds at a time, all of them having squires and horses who needed a place to sleep and food to eat.

 

There were a couple of girl warriors among them and Louis liked those even less than the men. He knew what made men tick, he knew how to manipulate them. Women were often volatile and their actions didn’t seem to follow any particular logic or reason.

 

Leaning against the window frame, he looked down at the courtyard, scowling at some new arrivals, when suddenly a rider came through the gates. Even across the distance Louis could see the curls, the slightly awkward way the rider was holding himself and he knew.

 

Squeezing his eyes shut, he cursed. “Fuck you stupid Tyrell with your stupid green eyes,“ he hissed, balling his hands into fists. “Why couldn’t you stay in fucking King’s Landing?“

 

They couldn’t possibly allow Harry to leave now that he had seen their preparations for war, couldn’t allow him to return and tell the king about what they were doing here. The Lannisters had no reason to fight in the war other than their anger at Louis’ dismissal and Nialler wouldn’t be able to ignore their gathering army. He could turn a blind eye on the Freys and the Targaryens since their fight had nothing to do with him, but the Lannisters were a different matter.

 

Maybe it wasn’t too late.

 

Throwing open the door to his rooms, Louis broke into a run. If he could make Harry leave, if he could just make him leave then maybe he could turn this situation around still. Only a couple of guards had seen Harry so far. He could probably tell them to keep their mouths shut and pay them a couple of gold coins for their silence. Harry would be long gone before rumours reached his mother’s ears and by then Harry would be safely back at King’s Landing or in Highgarden or just anywhere but here.

 

Taking two steps at a time, he almost flew down the steps to the inner courtyard. He brushed across a couple of servants and Lannister bannermen, but he stopped for no one. Stupid Harry. How could he have been so reckless to come here? The Tyrells weren’t supposed to be that way. Maybe he could have forgiven this in a Baratheon, but a Baratheon would also have had the means to defend himself. Harry was too sweet and gentle for the game of war.

 

By the time he reached the inner courtyard Harry had handed his horse over to a stable boy and was walking towards the entrance. Louis tackled him from behind, forcing him to the ground. He didn’t care if the Lannister muck dirtied the rose of Highgarden. His anger was like a white-hot flame and all he could see was Harry’s face and in his imagination it was red with blood.

 

“You fucking idiot,“ he hissed into the soft curls at the back of Harry’s neck. “How could you be so stupid? What madness has possessed you to come here?“

 

“Grand Maester Paul.“

 

For a moment Louis entertained the thought that Grand Maester Paul had really possessed Harry in the usual sense of the word, but then he recalled the old man’s face and calmed down just a little. But his pulse was still hammering in his veins and his anger was close to boiling.

 

“Why the hell are you here, Harold? Why?“

 

“There were reports that there was an army gathering at Lannisport and we wanted to know if it was true before we acted,“ Harry murmured into the mud. “Apparently it is. I’m… I just… you know?“

 

Louis knew. He knew why Harry had come and he deflated, all anger forgotten. Of course Harry had come because he felt the same as he did and they were both too lonely to pretend that Harry had come for military or political reasons. Still, Louis knew that he couldn’t protect Harry, not here.

 

“You need to leave, love. Please, you need to go.“

 

He slowly pulled away and knelt next to Harry. The curly head lifted and a wide pair of green eyes looked up – but not at him. Louis knew what he would find if he turned his head and so he didn’t.

 

“Hello, Mother.“


End file.
